


Fallen for Gold

by Makah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Emotional, Lifespan Difference, M/M, One Shot, Red Romance, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makah/pseuds/Makah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're nice, moments like this. Just having him between my arms, knowing that he's there, being able to feel the warmth of his body, almost burning hot compared to the coldness of mine, and for just an instant I can delude myself into thinking it could be like this forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen for Gold

His skin is hot under my fingertips. Reminding me of his place in the hemospectrum. Just another land-walker, finless, not even standing among the higher half of colors the landdwelling portion of the hemospectrum offers. Sitting at the bottom, just a couple colors beneath him, weak to psychic forces, dependant of his powers, skinny, fragile, worthless. This just feels wrong, on so many levels. I was hatched to do so much better than this, and yet I've fallen for gold.

He shifts, almost unnoticeable, in his sleep. A quiet sound on the back of his throar, eyelids fluttering, and i know he's dreaming. Of faceless voices and thousand of eyes and huge, terrifying monsters. Of death and pained screams, of the smell of blood and the taste of fear. Of dying hopes and rising doom and I feel, under my hand, how his bloodpusher quickens its beats. I run my fingers through his hair; I draw idle, shapeless patterns on his chest; I press my lips to his forehead.

It seems to help, I can't be sure, but I don't stop. He takes a deep breath and exhales with a sigh, but the monsters are still there. The sopor is fresh, it's the best quality I managed to get, I changed it hours ago. But the visions still haunt him. They always have and they always will. That's what he says every time. He whines, whispers things I can't understand and names I've never heard, and he begs, pleads for it to stop, and it pains me to know I can't stop it for him.

It's always like this, whenever he sleeps. I can't blame him for choosing his computer instead of his recuperacoon, but it's been almost five days he's gone without sleep. I've experienced nightmares myself, they tend to be worse the higher on the hemospectrum, but I'm sure he has it the worst.

He calms down after a few minutes, his eyes stopped moving and he's in a dreamless sleep. I wrap my arms around him, pull him close to myself, as if that would keep the terrors away. He complains, shifts in my arms, lazily rises a hand to touch my arm. I'm holding him too tight, he can't breathe, he mumbles. Bullshit, he can breathe just fine. I shut him up with a kiss, works most of the times, but he just turns away, presses his face against my shoulder and whines some more complaints that I can't really figure out. In a moment he's sleeping again, his breath warm on my neck, his hand resting on my chest, and I'm afraid to ever lose him.

They're nice, moments like this. Just having him between my arms, knowing that he's there, being able to feel the warmth of his body, almost burning hot compared to the coldness of mine, and for just an instant I can delude myself into thinking it could be like this forever. But my bliss doesn't last long. His lifespan is barely a small portion of my own. I know, he knows. And with his abilities, he'll be taken to pilot ships as soon as he reaches maturity. I want to hope, and it's painful.

Sometimes, I feel like he can read my mind. Like he knows what I'm thinking. He moves in my arms, pulls away from my shoulder, studies my face with a sleepy, half-opened eye, and I know that he knows. Maybe he's just learned to read my expressions, my body language, I've never been particularly good at concealing my emotions. He looks sad, sleepy and so truly, purely sad, something breaks inside my chest. I touch his hair, stroke his cheek, hold his face with both of my hans, I think I'm crying.

He frowns. He doesn't like tears, they make him feel awkward and uncomfortable and he doesn't know how to react. Can't say I've ever been good with crying either. Gently, almost afraid he'd break, I pull his face closer to mine, capture his lips with mine. It tastes salty, like the sea breeze, like tears. It tastes bitter, too, like nightmares and sadness and fear. But it's also sweet, just a pinch, like promises and moonlignt, and I drink in every second of the kiss.

Because I love him, because I'm afraid he'll disappear the moment our lips part, because sometimes he's the only thing that holds me together. I don't know how he came into my life, I don't remember, I don't care. Because he's in it, that's all that matters, he's all that that matters, and I can't lose him. I'm of the second possible highest shade, only topped by the empress and her heiress, and I've fallen for the gold. He pulls away and I wince; he looks at me in the eyes, he tells me he loves me.

I love him, too. I don't say it, I don't need to, he knows it. I kiss him again, because I'm greedy, because I need him. Because I don't know what I would do without him. He's anoyed, he just woke up and he blames me for not letting him sleep, he complains about the kisses but doesn't stop me. I'm clingy, dependant, overdramatic. I can't stop thinking about what it would be like when he's gone. I tell him, he clicks his tongue, says I'm an idiot. But he knows I'm right, and he kisses me again.

To shut me up, to calm me down, to tell me to stop worrying. It doesn't matter, not right now. I can worry about it in the future, he says, when it's time to worry about it. He kisses my eyelids, I'm stupid. He kisses my forehead, don't think about it. He kisses my lips, he loves me. My cheek. He's here, with me. My fin, he won't leave any time soon. My eyes, again, stop crying, it breaks his heart. I give him a smile, the best I can, he smiles right back, that's better, he's beautiful.

A breathy sigh escapes him. He gives up on getting any more sleep. Not with me around, at least. He climbs off the coon, dries the slime off of him, puts on his clothes. I follow. He looks at me and I wrap my arms around him and he huffs and doesn't even try to fight it because he knows it's going to be useless. I love him. He nods. A lot. He nods, again, asks if he can go get something to eat.

I kiss his temple and let him go, he'll come back to me.

This time.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a long time ago and loved it back then, reread it and man this is just like adding sugar to a jar of honey and it kind of made my stomach hurt with cuteness overdose.


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